


In Control

by jackassai



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Jack is an asshole, M/M, Manipulation, rhys needs a vacation, weird sorta porn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-26 02:43:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4987024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackassai/pseuds/jackassai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhys didn't really realize the stress that comes from running a big company. Add Jack in and Rhys' life keeps getting more complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe the start of a full work? Depends on if there's interest or not. For now, it works as a one-shot.

Here's one thing Rhys hadn't thought of when becoming CEO of a company that had been running without a president for so long: there's actually a lot of backup work that he needs to shift through. Plans that were once off-limits to him have suddenly become priority, and with how large Hyperion is, Rhys has damn near lived in Jack's—his—office for a month straight since his sudden rise to the top of the ladder. Truthfully, the first week had been more about getting everyone used to Rhys suddenly being in charge. Jack, being in the main system, had helpfully encouraged people into accepting Rhys' new position by shooting anyone who objected loudly in the face with the various turrets hidden in the halls of Helios.

Honestly, Rhys hadn't even been aware Helios even had that many turrets, but he can't say he's been surprised by it. Disgusted by the sudden spray of blood and gore that happened when someone opened their mouth, yes, but not surprised.

He had been an employee for Hyperion too long to be surprised by death on the space station. Hell, he had even been the cause of deaths. Even if he was only indirectly responsible.

Since the last time, people had begun to keep quiet when they questioned the sudden shift in power. Until Rhys had ascended, Hyperion had descended into a state that could be called cannibalism with how everyone was scrambling to overthrow each other. Power ran Hyperion, and everyone working for the company were just addicts seeking a new hit.

Rhys tears his eyes away from the screen in front of him, rubbing his left palm tiredly over his ECHO eye. Even without looking at the screen, Rhys can still see the jumble of letters behind his eyelids of this latest urgent project that needed his immediate attention. He's been staring too hard for too long, he knows this. When his mind starts wandering back on his crazy-as-hell month, he knows he's not going to get anything productive done until he's had a break.

Tiredly, Rhys sinks back into the plush office chair, tilts his head back, and closes his eyes for a moment. 

A month. It had only been a month since he agreed to run Hyperion with Jack, and within that month he's seen more death—and in a few cases, dismemberment—than he had seen in his whole life combined. People were getting used to his new status, Fiona and Sasha had been transported to a better life (he had fought Jack on his idea to just push them out an airlock) and sent off well with enough money to settle them in their new lives, and they had even managed to make a rescue mission that saw Vaughn back on Helios and in his old position. All of that, and there was still more that needed to be done. Not including all of the projects, Rhys still had to deal with Gortys and the vault, Vallory, August, and more importantly, Jack.

“You napping on the job, cupcake?”

“Speak of the devil,” Rhys mutters under his breath and cracks an eye open to stare at the screen above the doorway where Jack's face can be seen. Right now, Jack's giving him a ridiculous pout.

“Wow, so that's what you really think of me, huh?” Jack's voice is low, and Rhys squints at the tone of it. An apology is on the tip of his tongue when Jack barks out a laugh, the familiar, obnoxious grin returning. “Nah. Kind of like it. Devilishly good-looking, and friggin' awesome. That's me.”

Rhys just groans slowly, rubbing at his temple with tired induced aggravation. He can feel the build up of a headache starting to throb in his head, which always seems to center around his neural port. The stress of everything suddenly crashing on his head.

“So, you look like total shit. Gotta say one thing I didn't miss about being CEO. D'you see why I took to strangling people? Heh. Helps with stress and motivates others to not slip up. Kind of. Can't help with idiots, sadly.”

“I'm not killing anyone, Jack.”

“Uh-huh. Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you're the CEO of a weapons manufacturer. You sort of are killing people by signing off on projects.”

Rhys' eyebrows draw together for a moment, “That's not- Okay, no. I mean, yes? But no. That's not the same thing.”

“It totally is.”

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

Rhys maturely flips the screen off. He has a moment to feel smug at the incredulous look Jack gives him before he's yelping, flying off the chair that suddenly sent a jolt through his body, and lands half on top of his desk.

Irritated, Rhys picks himself up and grunts, “Ow, Jesus, what the hell, Jack?” 

“Better be glad I don't have a body, kitten, or I woulda snapped that pretty little finger off,” says Jack with no actual anger in his tone. Then, “And here I was planning on helping you out. Teaches me not to be nice, huh?”

Rhys' face scrunches up in confusion and suspicion at the screen, trying to determine what Jack meant by that. A beat. The grin on Jack's face becomes even more predatory, but he doesn't comment. When Rhys still doesn't reply, Jack actually starts waggling his eyebrows comically at him, which causes Rhys to splutter and blush. It clicks into place after that, and Rhys' immediate reaction is to reject to unspoken offer before him.

Before he can, Jack speaks again, “C'mon, it made you mellow out so well last time, Rhysie.” It's happened twice now, and it's not as embarrassing as the first time Jack suggested it, but Rhys can feel the heat in his cheeks. Jack doesn't miss the color. Rhys doesn't miss the leer. “Just let me help you relax some.”

Rhys curses. Jack knows exactly what that tone of voice does to him, damnit. 

He eases back into the chair and eyes the drive warily as it unfolds and hangs within view. He really shouldn't even be considering it—he has way too many reports to comb through still, and more keep piling up every time he looks away. Yet the offer is so tempting. If he can't get some sleep, something to relax him from the stress would be helpful.

“Thaaat's it, just plug yourself in and let Ol' Jack take care of you,” Jack hums in that low tone that catches against Rhys in all the right ways, tugs against his weakening resistance until it breaks.

Rhys doesn't have the mental energy to reject the temptation for long when his ticket to some relaxation is dangling so tantalizingly in front of him. Hesitantly, he reaches for the drive—only to have it jerked back a few inches before his fingers can wrap around it.

Rhys blinks. “Wha- Jack?”

“Ah-ah-ahh. Manners, pumpkin. What do we say?”

“What are y- Jack! Come on, man, you're the one that offered,” Rhys rolls his eyes, silently thanking that his voice didn't drop into the whine he can feel boiling in the back of his throat. Jack doesn't budge and every time Rhys tries to grab the drive, it moves again. After the fifth try, he really does whine, “Jaaaack.”

“Rhyyyyyyys,” Jack whines back, putting on a ridiculous pitch to his name. 

They stare at each other for a few beats before Rhys flushes hotly and drops his eyes down, mumbling.

“What was that? Didn't quite catch what you were saying—sounds like you got a dick in your mouth or something.”

“Oh for the love of. Okay, fine. You win. Please, oh mighty Handsome Jack, help me out here.”

Jack grins harshly at him, “Now that's a good boy.”

Rhys doesn't even question the grin anymore. Jack's mood has a habit of soaring high and dropping dangerously low so fast Rhys would get whiplash if he paid constant attention to the rapid fast mood swings of the AI. Instead, he reaches for the now still drive and lines it up to his port, casting a hesitant glance at the screen again before he clicks it into place.

Nothing happens at first. For a moment, that embarrassment floods back into Rhys' system like an echo of the past two times he's done this—he's afraid. Afraid Jack is just fucking with him and he'll soon be cackling hysterically at Rhys' gullibility. It just seems like a Jack thing to do.

And then suddenly everything changes. Or they don't change. He changes.

It starts from the connection port and pours directly from his neural link, scorching in and outwards through his organic system. It's a deep, buzzing pulse that rattles his fucking teeth, but it's not an unwelcome feeling. It's soothing. Soothing isn't a word he'd typically use for a sensation of electricity in his veins, but Rhys' life has steadily gotten weirder since he landed on Pandora. What's one more drop, really?

Rhys stutters some senseless words, slurs over the thickness of it, and falls silent. His eyes roll back slightly as the pulse quickens, slowly coating him with a feeling of pins and needles. He jerks, hips arching, and whines deep in his throat. It's caught in a repetitive not-enough-too-much circle that forces his fingers to clamp tightly on the armrests. He thinks he might be crying a little.

Jack is there, soothing him. With words and the feeling of incorporeal hands pressing against him, through him. “Attaboy. Just let it in, babe.”

At the moment, Rhys trusts him. Keeps trusting him, really. Since the first meeting—even with Jack trying to rip his throat out—he's trusted him. Put his life out on the line, obeyed, and now he's rewarded for his actions.

When he has clarity between the intense drives of power, Rhys feels a stab of not exactly regret, but the taste of it is the same. Regrets having to have Jack do this. The red flush of his cheeks heats him more than the pulses can. He's done so much to help his idol, and here he is relying on the man to soothe him. It almost feels like he's letting Jack down with his inability to handle the stress of being a CEO. 

Some heir he's turned out to be.

“Nah-ah. Stop that, Rhysie.” The harsh tone rips at his attention, pulling him from the numbing buzz locked in his body. “I'm pretty sure we've covered you aren't stupid, yeah? What- you think I'd kill you for this? For needing me?”

Rhys doesn't meet his gaze or verbally answer. He doesn't have to—Jack is so embedded in his system right now that his thoughts are open and easily accessible.

“I made a promise, kiddo. Made you all nice and cushy in that friggin' great chair because you got me back here. Taking care of anyone that opens their dumb, stupid mouths about you being at the top. Now,” he hisses and the spike of the intensity of his voice is mirrored in the charge in Rhys' body, “would I go killing you after all that work. No, don't answer. Just enjoy, m'kay?”

Rhys jerks, nodding frantically. Under Jack's gaze, he comes apart at the seams. Breathless, whining, he is forced to uncoil from his stress and worries by the power of Jack. Feels almost as if Jack is laying him out and taking him apart piece by piece, scrutinizing everything that makes Rhys, Rhys. Rhys would be lying if he said he didn't like it on some level. That is to say, he flourishes under the power Jack has over him.

He doesn't see the cheshire grin that stretches Jack's face, or the calculating way he stares as he increases the intense feelings further—much further than Rhys has had before. Swimming in his mind, Rhys is drowning under his emotions and the nearly unbearable buzzing under his skin. He keens loudly as he feels it build up in his gut and curls there, hot and heavy. Pain and pleasure bubble hotly, and Rhys is lost to it.

“Oh, yeah, babe, just let Jack take control for a while. Don't worry.”

And Rhys, surprisingly, doesn't worry about anything. About the reports or projects. He doesn't worry about Vallory or August. Doesn't worry that he doesn't have time to sleep. 

And he definitely doesn't worry about the sensation of Jack overpowering him, though he probably should fight against it.

The last thing he remembers before he loses consciousness is Jack's deep chuckling coming from his own mouth.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I decided to continue it. It's gonna be a bit weird at first until things start getting pieced together by Rhys.

Rhys comes back to his senses violently and confused. He is numb to the world outside of his muddled dreams, the details of which blur along the edges until the colors bleed into nothing, and then, suddenly, he is awake. It's a quick snap back to the reality that makes him jerk sideways and topple to the floor, wild panic seizing his mind for a moment, jumbling his thoughts even more. Nothing makes sense in his mind; thoughts come and go freely and Rhys isn't able to focus. It feels like his mind is splintered, letting the ideas drip through the thin cracks. He desperately reaches for something to hold onto to ground him, but it slips as easily through his fingers as water.

Distantly, he thinks he hears a voice, muffled by the fog of dream and panic, calling his name. He ignores it.

He thinks he remembers a report on a new model of a shotgun before things start to blur. Not even a new brand, but a model update on an existing one with trivial upgrades to push for a new release and higher price tag. He thinks he remembers this, but his thoughts stray again, obscuring his connection with reality. 

Suddenly, he's staring at lines of coding that make no sense—though nothing does at the moment—and remembers his fingers deftly typing out... something. If he just focuses on it, he's sure he could understand what he had written.

The thought fades before he gets a chance. He remembers things in flashes, but nothing triggers a connection in his mind. The details taunt him viciously but remain just out of reach for him to make sense of anything.

There is still a voice humming in the back of his head trying to get his attention. It feels like electricity in his brain and, if he could just focus, if he could just latch on to something, he could make the feeling go away. He ignores the voice again and thinks.

He loses time, the memories come and fade away and they still make no sense. Was he writing a response to his reports? Rhys thinks he must have because he remembers the rush of annoyance while jabbing too hard at the keyboard. But he doesn't remember what he wrote, or why he wrote it. Irritation bubbles up, hot and thick, and spreads over his fractured mind. Rhys clings to the emotion with desperation, and then abruptly he's thrown into another memory. Jack above him, offering him relief from his work for a time, and his hesitant acceptance of their peculiar interaction. Jack talking to him in that appealing tone of voice. Jack's hands. Jack's looks. Jack's laugh. Jack, Jack, Jack.

Jack fills his mind like a sudden flood, drowning out whatever else his mind had been trying to keep hold of. “Man, I don't even got to ask if it was good for you. You're complete out of it, huh, babe?”

Rhys flinches hard away from a sudden jolt of pain at his port. He doesn't say anything, but when he opens his eyes, he glares at the hologram crouching beside him. There's a flicker and then Jack is suddenly even closer, that smug grin now inches from Rhys' face. Jack waves his hand in front of Rhys' eyes.

“Hellooooo. Jack to dum-dum. You in there or what?”

“Ugh. You are way too cheerful right now.” Rhys cringes away again and stands up, dusting himself off. Curiously, he's not sitting at the chair anymore, but laying on a couch he had gotten for the office to nap on. He also notices that he's in a different, clean, pair of pants“Why am I over here? How did I get over here?”

“Wow, am I good, or am I good? You don't even remember anything.”

Rhys rolls his eyes, huffing out a little laugh. He knows exactly what Jack wants to hear before he'll answer anything, and Rhys is curious enough to give in this time and humor him, “Yeah, yeah, you're amazing at making me come in my pants. Save your strutting, will you?”

“You're no fun.”

“I'm plenty of fun,” Rhys explains, but cuts him another glare, “You know what's not fun? Waking up and having my memories be a jumbled mess. What did you even do to me? It was different this time.”

Jack raises his hand to make a vague rolling motion at the space between them, “Just what you asked me to do, Rhysie. I helped you relax.”

“Relaxing doesn't normally include me passing out and waking up on the couch with new pants on. W-wait. Wait,” Rhys stutters to a halt, a vague stirring of discomfort lodging behind his ribs. 

Things are starting to piece together slowly, and it drops hard on top of that ball of emotions in his chest that he couldn't have changed his pants and moved on his own. That would mean that Jack had to have. A beat of silence takes over and then he splutters, “Did you take over?!”

“Well, yeah,” Predictably, Jack doesn't look sorry, “Kind of had to with you passing out on me—not that I'm complaining about that. You were so tired you couldn't stay awake. I took over and got a bunch of your work done. You're welcome for that, by the way.”

“Jack, you can't just do that! I'm supposed to be the one reading and learning about the projects. How am I supposed to be CEO if I don't even know what the company is doing?”

“Ohhhh my god. Fine. Next time I won't do you any favors and make notes on the important things.” Jack looks honestly insulted at Rhys' outburst.

Rhys almost feels ashamed, but he squashes that reaction and hangs on to the discomfort, running his hand through his hair. He has to remind himself that there are gaps in his memory that is to be blamed on Jack. Jack says he was doing him a favor, but favors shouldn't typically result in missing chunks of time. Rhys moves away from Jack, to in front of the window, and starts pacing back and forth. Every now and then he cuts a look to Jack, who has now taken to floating stretched just above the desk watching him, and frowns.

“Yeesh. You are way too stressed now that you're CEO, kitten.”

Rhys slows down and points a finger at him, “I wouldn't be so stressed right now if you hadn't taken a joyride in my body when I passed out. If you hadn't distracted me I could have been catching up on all this work. If you hadn't-”

“If I hadn't taken over, you would still be passed out at your desk with no work done. All I did was help you relax and your body passed out. You were that close to it. Lucky for you, I was already connected to you again and could hop straight into that pretty little head and help you out.”

“I- stop doing that.”

Jack gives him a bemused look, “Doing what?”

“The making sense thing.” Rhys throws his hands up with a huff that makes Jack grin, “You wanted to make me CEO, so I should be doing this on my own.”

“Right, riiiiight. I wanted you to be CEO so I could watch you run yourself to death. Yep. My entire dastardly plan right there.” Jack snorts and flickers, appearing again to stand in front of Rhys. “Seriously, you need a break. There's only so long you can stay locked up in here, cupcake. I caught you up on your work to a point you can take it easier, even took notes for your ungrateful ass, and now you're mad at me for it. What sense does that make?”

Rhys doesn't want to admit that Jack might be right; however, with Jack in his head, he knows Jack already knows—the look he gets is proof enough that Jack is skimming his thoughts. Rhys frowns at him again. What an ass.

“Rude,” Jack says in reply, pointing at him, “C'mon. You know I'm right, so let's take a break. Everything is caught up enough that you can stretch those legs out for a bit. Take a walk around the departments and check in on things in person.”

“I really don't think that's a good idea.”

“Because working until you pass out is a better option. Which, hint, it's not.”

“I still have more work to do, Jack. Like looking over those notes you said you took, and there's still other backed up things I need to take care of.”

“A day off isn't going to have Helios burn down around us. They survived months without me, didn't they? Maybe not very well, but a day isn't going to hurt anything, kitten.”

Rhys really wants to argue that—there are plenty of ways that things could get screwed up while he's out of the office—but he hesitates to open his mouth. Jack is giving him a look that says he isn't going to buy any excuse Rhys makes. Slowly, he slumps his shoulders and gives in to Jack's plan. He looks to the chair, but Jack just shakes his head.

“Nuh-uh. It's fine, I want to take a break out of the system anyway. Being a giant space station is nice, but boy do you start to miss walking,” Jack pauses a moment and shakes his head, adding on, “Well. Sometimes you miss it.”

“That... doesn't seem like a great idea. What if I—we. What if we need you in the system for turrets?”

Jack grins at his admission, but thankfully doesn't comment, “There's a spare gun and holster in a cabinet in the wall over there. Get that, and if something happens, just let me take over.”

That still doesn't sound like a good idea, but if Jack doesn't want to go back into the system right now, Rhys knows he can't force Jack to. At Jack's urging, Rhys makes his way over to the wall with hidden cabinets and retrieves the gun and holster, fumbling with it for a moment before he gets it settled into place. It's one like Jack used to wear, and it feels strange to have the weight against his thigh, but he can't deny the slight thrill that comes along with it. He ignores the smug look Jack gives him.

At the entrance to the office, Rhys takes a longing look back at the desk. He really did still have work to do, but he supposed Jack did have a point. He sighs deeply and walks out, heading towards the elevator that will take him to the rest of Helios.

–

It's strange, he thinks, walking down the halls of Helios. Not that the action is strange, or the layout has been changed, but the feeling in the air has a distinct difference now. Embarrassingly, it takes him a few moments to realize the difference: everyone is doing their best to move out of his way. Where once he would have to walk around to bypass people, now entire groups will uproot and relocate to avoid him, looking at him anxiously as they did so. He hadn't even told anyone to, they just did so automatically. 

He remembers days when Jack would prowl through the walkways and how everyone would move for him. Now they're doing it for him, Rhys, and there is a funny feeling curls like smoke in his gut. It's not an unpleasant feeling.

“Mmm, you feeling that power, yeah?” Rhys looks over to Jack curiously, “That's what this is, babe, power. Pure power.”

“It's... different. Kinda weird. Kinda awesome?”

“S'at a question? Hell yeah, it's awesome. The power to part the seas of peons by just stepping out of the office. You can't tell me that's not friggin' incredible.”

Jack throws his arms out as they walk, and Rhys can't help but chuckle at the theatrics on display. He hums, tilts his head to the side, and walks alongside Jack in a few moments of silence, watching those around them. Everyone seems to notice him the moment they see him, and he feels that excitement jolt down his spine and the looks of recognition and, well, fear.

It's a weird feeling in his chest the spreads out and curls into the meat of his body, seeing people look at him like they once did for Jack. That is, the awe and the fear on their faces made an actual feeling that makes him shudder. Jack looks knowingly at him, and Rhys can't find it in him to care right now.

“Is it always like this?” He wonders out loud, not fully expecting Jack to reply, but pleasantly surprised when he does.

“Eh, sorta. Different feeling for everyone, but, yeah, you'll keep liking it. Least I always did.”

Rhys snorts, “I think we could all tell; you were always so helpful to remind us to be fearful of you.”

“Hey, fear is power. Plus it's just hilarious watching these idiots almost piss their pants. Not so hilarious when they do—it's just nasty then.”

Rhys laughs then at the look of disgust on Jack's face. Around him, people visibly flinch and Rhys notices the way they're looking at him has changed. Still with fear, but now there's something else.

“Hey, Jack, what's with them?”

“Hmm? Oh. They probably think you're nuts, pumpkin. You are, like, talking to no one. As far as they can see, anyway.”

Rhys had... forgotten that, actually. With spending so much of his time with Jack either in the system or as a hologram in his head, it was a natural reaction to speak to him out loud. The fact that no one else could see Jack walking alongside Rhys wasn't something Rhys had really thought about. 

He raises a hand up and rubs nervously at the back of his head, feeling a blush rising. Jack just peers curiously at him, and then, helpfully, laughs at his embarrassment. Because he's a jerk like that.

“Oh, Rhysie, I have got to train you to stop insulting me.”

Rhys doesn't respond out loud now that he's been reminded about his unique situation, and Jack just laughs louder. Thankfully, he doesn't have to respond right away as they've reached the first department for the impromptu visit: R&D.

Jack had specifically decided that Rhys should visit the, in Jack's words, most useful and interesting part of Hyperion first to really get his feet wet. When Rhys was still just part of data-mining, he had never stepped foot into this part of Helios—mostly out of fear of the experimentations—though he had passed by it often enough. 

Now that he was CEO, Jack had explained on the way, he needed to really get in and see what sort of fun toys Hyperion was creating. Reading it on paper was one thing, but seeing it in person was a whole different experience.

Rhys actually found it kind of amusing how excited Jack seemed to get the further they walked through. Being in the system, Jack had had a full view of everything that was going on in R&D and he seemed genuinely enthusiastic to have Rhys see as well. After a while, Jack's eagerness even spreads to Rhys. By the time they finally get to the center of the department where the main action was, Rhys is buzzing with emotions he's not entirely sure is his own. He's not exactly complaining about that.

“S-sir!” Rhys turns his head to where a short, thin man approaches him. “We, uh, we didn't k-know you were g-going to be dropping by. Can I h-help yo-you?”

Rhys sort of wonders if the stuttering is a natural problem or fear induced. Instead of asking, he waves his hand dismissively, “Thought it might be a good idea to actually show my face. Get a good idea with what I'm working with that isn't just words on a screen.”

The man bobs his head and then looks around nervously in a way that makes Rhys frown slightly, wondering what the problem was. After a moment, he seems to relax a bit more, and even manages to stand up a bit straighter. Whatever his problem was, it seems he was getting over it. When he speaks again, the stuttering seems nearly gone, “I'm, uh, Phillips, head of R&D. D-did you want to have a tour, or was there something specific?”

“I think a general tour is fine for right now.”

“Of course, sir, right this way.”

–

And so his visitations through Helios fell into this pattern: Rhys would show up, the head of the department would meet him, they would nearly cower in fear the first few minutes of speaking to him, and then he would get a tour with the heads slowly relaxing. Aside from the occasional commentary from Jack, Rhys pretty much took control the entire time. It was different than how Jack would be in the office, always in Rhys' business with suggestions, or mercilessly mocking his lack of understanding things. More than once, Rhys had forgotten Jack was even there.

It isn't until he gets back to the office that Jack really speaks up again.

“So, wasn't I right?” Rhys blinks, looks at him curiously, and he makes an exasperated noise before explaining further his seemingly random comment, “The power, kiddo, the control. Wasn't I right? It's awesome, isn't it? Go on, tell me how right I was.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess you were right.” Rhys ducks his head, running his hand through his hair. He did like it—liked it a lot, actually. The heads were so attentive to anything he could need, listened like they were hanging onto his every word. It was something else. Rhys couldn't really explain his fascination with their reactions to him.

“You- you guess I was right.” 

“What do you want me to say?”

“Uh, maybe how friggin' awesome it was? Didn't I just say that? I thought I just said that.”

Rhys rolls his eyes and turns his attention to the screen again. He figures when Jack is ready to jump back to the system he'll say so, so for now he just gets back to work.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Are you seriously going back to work again? Whhhhyyyyyy?”

“I told you I had more work to do before we took that trip around Helios.”

Jack rocks back on his heels, covering his face with a hand, and groans, “Uuuuugh, you're killing me here, kitten. You've finally got control of it all—live a little! Buy some strippers or something.”


End file.
